


your heart's too big for your body, it's why it won't fit inside

by r1ker



Category: Insidious (Movies)
Genre: For Kate, Kid Fic, M/M, the one where the two ghost hunters acquire a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5800459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>here it is, the first of what i hope is many fics set to my friend kate's headcanons for these two gay nerds having a baby named after elise</p><p>enjoy my friends</p><p>(thanks melanie martinez for this fic's title btw)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here it is, the first of what i hope is many fics set to my friend kate's headcanons for these two gay nerds having a baby named after elise
> 
> enjoy my friends
> 
> (thanks melanie martinez for this fic's title btw)

Specs gets a call one day that's arguably out of the ordinary. For one, he never looks twice at a number on the caller ID that's not Tucker or Elise. This one seems different, an area code he hasn't seen in a long time, and so he gives in to his curiosity.

 

"Yeah," he answers and the person on the other end of the line waits a beat before responding to him.

 

"Steven, it's Nicole," the woman says and it doesn't take long for him to remember her. Old friend from high school, they knew each other but not well enough to remain in contact after graduation.

 

He had kept up with her by way of her social work, speaking to her once before when a case had gotten hairy enough to necessitate him to call in reinforcements. The conversation had been quick, all business with little pleasantries outside of typical greetings.

 

By the way she's begun this phone call, to Specs at least, she doesn't seem in the mood to be casual. "I wouldn't bother you if I didn't have any other choice." He didn't mean to imply by his stilted greeting that he held ill will towards her; he just really doesn't like phone calls. If he had any say in the way he'd preferred to be contacted, a simple text or email if the person is so inclined is something he much prefers.

 

He puts down the coffee cup he was holding when he answered his phone as if having another hand free requires him to focus his attention on listening to her. "No, you're not. What's up?"

 

"That woman you had me come see the day you consulted with her," Nicole remembers and for a second Specs racks his brain. He and Tucker had been particularly busy following the ordeal they'd been through with Josh; word had gotten out evidentially that they'd come in contact with some deeply rooted stuff and people felt they were the answer to resolving long-standing issues they had with themselves.

 

Granted, Specs had concluded once the person's front door had shut and their overwhelmed tears were dried knowing that their problems had been resolved, most of them had been full of shit, but he's more than glad to listen to it. He's been doing it for most of his life so he mostly goes on autopilot.

 

"She's since died, and they've left me no choice but to place the baby she has with someone. Most of her extended family won't have any part in it, won't even answer my calls. I looked and I looked in her file for someone to call and you were the only person I could find that actually picked up."

 

He most certainly is not on autopilot now.

 

"What are you asking here?" he asks her like he can't read through the lines. He knows exactly what she wants from him, for him to take in the baby of a woman he came to know over the course of one week.

 

Part of him instantly rules it out of consideration – where the hell is he even going to put a baby in the ramshackle shotgun house he and Tucker found themselves sharing together? Tucker's got a whole damn room devoted to various collectibles to shows Specs can't remember lasting more than one season outside of syndication. Babies can't sleep in bureau drawers like he remembers his mother telling him about during his earlier years (needless to say he'd been both a life and financial surprise, so space and resources were limited much like they are with him now).

 

And they can't make their home amongst action figures still in mint boxes.

 

"Take her in, just until I can find a real foster home. It's kind of tight in the ones I have listed locally," Nicole explains carefully when she notices a sense of panic behind his words. In that case, knowing she's working to place the baby that someone that's a bit more equipped than he'll be should he agree to this little affair, he settles a little. So, what he says next comes as even a surprise to the former self that wouldn't have taken in a baby if it was on clearance.

 

"I'll do it. Give me some time, let me talk to Tucker and see if he's willing to clear out a spot in his little man room, and I'll make it happen."

 

Nicole lets out an audible sigh into the mouthpiece of her phone. He didn’t think it was all that concerning – some grandma out there wouldn't want to foster a baby? No chance, Nicole's just looking to place this unknown girl with someone she knows; while not well enough, he remembers her as rather trusting. She trusts a lot, he reckons.

 

"Thanks, Steven. You're not going to regret it." Nicole breaks off for a second, smiling to herself on her end of the phone. "You're going to like her. Her name made me think of you, if that makes you feel any better about this." Again Nicole refrains from speaking as if to play out the last statement she's just made to him. "Her name is Elise."

 

How did he know? She knew he'd have no choice, a low blow nonetheless, but who is he to inquire about whether or not someone had a say in something? He'll leave it alone for now. They bid farewell to one another and hang up the phone, and Specs works on formulating his arguably intricate way of breaking the news to Tucker.

 

'The news' being about his collectible room, not the baby, of course.

 

That night at dinner, Specs is still mentally going over his little script he's prepared. _Nicole, that social worker we worked with a few weeks ago, gave me a call today and she's left me to take care of a baby supposedly named after our dead friend and you're going to have to move aside the Harrison-Ford-sized Han Solo on Hoth action figure to make room for whatever bassinet we can get for fifty bucks hopefully not in an alleyway that we later have to sanitize with Purell –_

Tucker sees right through him in the way that he is all too well studying his plate of Hamburger Helper. "What's on your mind, man?" A great deal of things, Specs almost blurts out, none of them being the actual thing he wants to say. He shrugs, goes back to poking at the noodles with the tines of his fork. Tucker does the same and a few more moments between them pass in mutual but stilted silence.

 

"I agreed to foster a baby," Specs mumbles through a mouthful of food like Tucker isn't tuned into how someone speaks like that. His eyes go wide almost on reflex and he looks down, searches for a way out of confronting this. Instead of seeing a baby he sees this force that takes life rather than fulfilling it and he's hit with the realization that his parents raised one with this looming over their heads.

 

He hasn't been around kids much at all his whole life – speaking of his parents, reproductively, managed just him and none others, and that wasn't without its medical risks (three miscarriages, a ten-week-early Tucker, and four months spent in the hospital for baby him) so he's known the circumstances people go through to get one new human.

 

What would they have to go through for this one? One the two of them barely knew that was to be coming into their possession? He knew so little about the whole situation it almost astounded him that Specs was able to keep it this quiet for so long. He had mentioned Nicole's phone call ten days before and hadn't let any more details about it slip since then, so, Tucker thinks, kudos to him.

 

"Well, alright," is all he can make himself say to that. All of a sudden the dynamic between them shifts in his mind – will they order takeout for two or three? That's such a mundane question but everything about welcoming a third person into the household revolves around what he's deeming the takeout dynamic.

 

Will this new addition require the same things as they do? And no, not the little perks like getting food ordered in, but like, deep shit. Will they be responsible for enriching the life of this little being in such a short amount of time? Most of these questions and pontifications start to sound ridiculous to him as time continues to tick by without a word being exchanged between the two of them. Finally he's the first to rise from the dining room table and he takes careful steps out of the room, in search of somewhere open ala every cliché movie he's seen in the past where the protagonist – himself, of course – has faced something challenging. Holy Christ, he tells himself on the way out to their front porch, it's a baby and not a boss in a video game, but _he's never done this before_. He doesn't even know where to start.

 

He's going to have to start – nothing in him is going to allow Specs to go at this alone – so he takes in a few breaths, air of the August night coming into him in deep inhales, and sits back on the ledge of the railing. Specs comes outside a few minutes later, screen door creaking as he exits their home, and he walks behind Tucker to rest his cheek against Tucker's shoulder. Tucker allows him just for the fact that he's too cute enough to deny this type of contact, and Specs lets out a sigh where they are touching.

 

"Her name's Elise," is what Specs says through his exhale, words of subdued amazement. Tucker thinks then that this is some sort of sign from that very same woman from where she is now, above them rather than beside them. He'll take it, just for her. He'd do anything for her, even if it meant going way out of his comfort zone. That was something he agreed to long ago, long before he even knew of the bond they'd develop, and he doesn't see any reason why he'd go back on it now.

 

Nicole brings Elise by the house three days later. Tucker watches her car pull up to the curb, come to a gentle stop and the ignition turn off. She emerges as gracefully someone can do when it's a windy day in northern California, red curls sweeping up and over her blouse as she works to gather both her purse and the baby in the backseat.

 

Tucker doesn't see Elise first, he hears her. The loud little thing is talking from the second Nicole opens the back door to start undoing her car seat harness. He knows because he cracks the door open slightly to let her know he's ready to spring into action should she need any assistance, and he can't stop the way he smiles when the baby's chatters reach a fever pitch at the sight of him.

 

Nicole smiles, dazzling with the sound of Elise's excitement all too typical for someone just shy of two years old, and walks up the front steps to the house. Now Tucker is standing fully on the rug just inches from the front door and he tries to play it cool like he's not overwhelmingly intrigued by this kid.

 

And the kid is more than willing to go to him once the distance between them is short enough for her to not fully leap from Nicole's arms. Nicole, with an air of sadness typical for someone in her profession (take it from her, she's tried to work around it for years and finds it hard to beat when she's seen so many kids over so many years not have the good ending like she thinks this little girl's going to have with these two) helps the baby into the crook of Tucker's arm.

 

Elise tucks in, presses her face to the soft give of Tucker's shoulder through his flannel shirt, and makes a noise no one would say was short of elated. He looks down and gets a line of vision full of a bed of blond curls, finds her weight slight in his arm, and thinks that he could get used to this pretty damned quick.

 

Nicole slips the handle of a white diaper bag into Tucker's free hand while he's busy studying Elise. She smiles a little, pats Tucker's forearm with confidence, and confesses, "With that, it's my time to say goodbye. If you two need anything, don't hesitate to call, alright?"

 

He nods, still all too entranced to look up at her and wish her a proper farewell, and with that Nicole begins her way back to her car, climbing back in and taking off down their quiet street in no time.

 

Then the stun sets in. With it comes its old companion panic, and Tucker tries to let it tamp down by telling himself that she's here, she's not screaming or doing anything other than looking at his beard with utmost curiosity, and nothing absolutely cataclysmic is occurring right now at this very moment in time.

 

"Yes, you are very cute," he mumbles when Elise inches her way up to wrap both of her arms around his neck, holding on tightly as they walk back in to find Specs.

 

He's in the living room, folding a little stack of clothes he may or may not have found himself buying at a thrift store at three o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon just for their new houseguest. He looks up when something tells him that there's two and not just one new person in the room. Tucker wishes he could take a picture of the smile that slowly spreads over Specs' face when he's greeted with the sight of the baby spoken of for days now, the one bearing the name of their old friend and biggest fan.

 

He's on his way to being hers too, and they've seen each other for about thirty seconds.

 

The three end up on the sofa side by side, Elise between the two of them clutching onto a soft little fabric toy that had found its way into Specs' cart with the clothes earlier in the week, and before them Cartoon Network's finest rolls one after the other in vivid Technicolor. Whatever doubt the two guys had coming into this situation, it's swept away out the open window behind the three of them by the sound of Elise's laughter at the antics of the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote, pure joy they've never heard before.

 

It's new. And they have to agree, they like it.


	2. Chapter 2

Specs wakes up to the sound of very soft words spoken, and someone's contented noises in response. Right away he knows it's past time for him to be getting up, sun filtering in through the blinds and stinging his eyes as he opens them. His mind runs through several things to be done once he's had about nine cups of coffee, but all that comes to a slow halt as he turns his head to the side.

 

Tucker lies next to him having long since been awake. On his chest lies the littlest tribute to a passed friend, blinking slowly at him as he explains something far past Specs' immediate understanding. A hand passes over Elise's red curls mindlessly. "I have known your dad for twenty years. Of those we have been friends for, oh, twelve. He didn't start liking me until I started shutting up. That was probably last week, depends on how old _I_ am and how old _he_ is and what position the moon is. Not that he'll ever come to this conclusion but I started loving him the minute he shook my hand." With that Specs rolls over a little, presses his forehead to Tucker's bare shoulder.

 

"To be fair you were drunk the night we met," Specs mumbles as he squints at them both, Elise already having begun the mad dash to settle in between the two of them, where she's belonged all along. "There wasn't really a handshake just a very loudly proclaimed, 'You're a handsome bastard, aren't you?'" Elise laughs as if that prior exchange is comprehensible; Specs can barely remember the night itself, meeting Elise at a get-together after her posting in the ad in the newspaper calling for an assistant in the paranormal. He'd remembered Tucker for the head of hair, the insatiable desire to drink whoever was hosting the party dry of anything with a high enough alcohol content.

 

Looking back at it now he'd never quite pictured the two of them lying in bed together with their adopted kid next to them, so rapt in all they offer to her just by being hers. She rolls back to Tucker, lets her head fall heavy on his chest. "She loves you more than me." Specs pretends to feign offense but leans up to kiss the back of her head, then Tucker. Tucker's the one to make the gesture linger longer than ones only having been precious seconds in the past.

 

"Nonsense, I like to think she likes us both enough to stick around," Tucker dismisses. There's no doubting she'll be staying. No one, not even Nicole, has called regarding a more permanent placing for her. The only questionable call they've gotten since Elise came to them was one wondering if they needed a daycare. As far as Specs is concerned he can do the paranormal things with a toddler in tow, within the confines of morality. He won't start expecting her to set up film equipment until grade school. "Probably not if you keep up your thrice-weekly torture ritual those parenting magazines call bath time. I never had a dog that that was that terrified of water. Leads me to wonder as to her lineage."

 

Specs welcomes with a huff of an exhale his daughter on his chest. "Now you've gone and upset the child, all this talk of bubbles and running water and blessed, blessed cleanliness. Something we welcome after you decided to let her into the hot chocolate mix on the counter as you were cooking dinner." Tucker lets his hands rise slowly in a sign of innocence. One minute he's stirring the pan and the next Elise has gone and let it gather in the folds of her arms, the twists and turns of her wild hair, up her nose even as it comes out when she laughs at Tucker's stunned expression. "Not all the Johnson's baby wash in the world could stop her from nearly attracting ants in the night. I slept with bated breath hoping they wouldn't come to carry her away." Tucker laughs and the show of his teeth, the completely overcome with amusement sound that leaves him, lets Elise flash a devilish smile at them both.

 

Then the three of them are in the kitchen, morning having begun down its usual road. In the adjoining living room the television drones with the daily events of their neck of the Californian woods, all brush fires and economic disasters, celebrity scandals and upcoming movies. Specs listens to it passively, trying his best to tend to breakfast with a two-year-old clinging to his leg. Tucker's gone off and left her in favor of a shower, and as of right now, Specs isn't sure if she can make it any longer without him in her line of sight. Having been the first to hold her the day she came into their home, a special sort of trust was passed from one to the next.

 

"I know, he's coming back, my love," he says without looking down so that the cinnamon toast sizzling away in the pan doesn't entirely go to charcoal like it's done so many times before. Elise doesn't buy it and grips tighter at his pajama pants, glancing back at the doorway, listening for the sound of the water to run. After a while it boils over into anxious tears and Specs flips the toast, bounces her on one hip. Even then she's not placated, gnawing at a fist, the other clenched in the collar of Specs' shirt.

 

Tucker returns just in time for both breakfast and the inevitable breakdown. Elise erupts into sobs even as she's handed back to him so that Specs can get the rest of breakfast together and with dripping hair Tucker works his magic, getting her back to where all she's doing as they begin to eat is blink at them both with wet eyes. She feeds Tucker some of the toast, tearing it with clumsy fingers then turning around in his lap. He accepts the first few pieces before turning the rest back so that she may eat. That's something they've had to work on; she'll go as long without eating until the insulin crash leaves her screaming, and both of them can't find the root of the cause.

 

One thing Tucker will never understand about toddlers, how long they can go without food out of confusion. He's thankful for when she does eat, sometimes more than he think a two-year-old girl can hold without it coming back up. Not to think she's forgotten about Specs. She pokes at his coffee, pulling back once she's able to get her hand on it and feel its heat. He works on cutting up more toast, feeding her with his nose in a newspaper.

 

Before him are reports of disturbances in an abandoned hospital, previous nurses' reports of mutilated babies, long-forgotten patients unable to pay and thus left to their own devices. He wants to know why, where the state went wrong allowing something like this to happen to new mothers, innocent poor people in need of a last hope. It makes Specs look for Elise after a while. He sets eyes on her, can't help but smile back when hers becomes so infectious.

 

Taking it all in, his girl in the lap of the only person he's ever loved with all of him, makes him thankful for his job, despite the atrocity he and Tucker will have to investigate once this moment has ceased. Without it he'd be slinging specialty coffee at some dead-end café, endlessly googling paranormal cases in the hopes that one day it'll be him flipping the switch on the ghost box.

 

"We'll get her dressed and ready, then we'll get to work," Specs picks up his paper as he speaks. They finish breakfast and Specs looks over at them as he ties his tie, seeing Elise stand between Tucker's feet as he works on tying laces, tying a bow in her hair at the same time. Specs has half a mind to say it shouldn't quite come to such harsh points of a bunny's ears but Tucker's trying, as they all are. She's as patient with him as ever, pitching in when his collar doesn't quite seem as straight as it ought to be. With that he stands from the foot of the bed, scooping her up in the process with a loud kiss to her cheek.

 

As all three walk out of the bedroom and down the hall, Specs feels one big hand at the small of his back, another small one against his dress shirt where it slopes across his shoulder. He remembers all those mornings he spent with sugar under his nails and in his nose, and knows with his entire being that if it was what led to this, it was so very worth it.


End file.
